Danse Macabre
by Hollowshirosaki413
Summary: After the painful scene of his entire family fallen into the flames in his own mansion, Ichigo Kurosaki made a deal that he has yet to this day to regret. He, quite literally, sold his soul to that of the albino demon he would more or less die for. What he didn't expect, however, was his infatuation to go so far. Based off of Kuroshitsuji - Black butler. And yes, Danse is correct.
1. Prologue: In Fate of the Devil

Why hello there everyone! I simply could just not pass up this sudden burst of emotion while watching one of my all-time favorite anime's, Kuroshitsuji, back over and this is where this prologue derives from. I know for damned sure that I should be updating my other stories though, and I promise you, I'm almost done with them, so I decided that this could be a new installment to my page. x3

"Danse Macabre" - yes, with the 's' in Danse, from season two of Kuroshitsuji, roughly translates to "Dance of Death".

Ichigo Kurosaki will be in place of Ceil Phantomhive and Hichigo Ogichi Shirosaki in the place of Sebastian Michaelis. A lot of similar shit will happen but the outcome won't be the same as you think it will, this and that yada yada. xD In any case, I do hope you like this new story. I'll see you soon!

Danse Macabre

_Prologue: In Fate of the Devil's Arms _

~oOo~

_Third Person POV_

* * *

To reveal that of a pure nature is something Ichigo Kurosaki was certainly not capable of doing. To the untrained eye the orange-haired negotiable was simply a man – an innocent man who had been blackened by the death of his family, a child who had been surrounded in flames for the better half of his childhood and most of his faint adulthood. He was just a teenager. A _boy. _A mere _kid _who had no idea how to take a hold of the real world and alter it into his own idealistic's, to reform his nature so that he would be pleased in his gathering game of human nature.

But then again, that was to the untrained eye. To the unworthy. To the unsociable.

There were times when Ichigo was thought to be inhuman; his cold nature and his ability to sustain such welcoming friends was frightening – however, that was not the most frightening aspect of his exquisite mansion most commonly stated as to be 'in the middle of no man's land.' No, see to it that no one that has so much as irked Ichigo Kurosaki has lived to tell the tale.

At a young age the little Kurosaki had witnessed his family pass in a terribly painful fire. His previous mansion, under the proud name and rule of his previous ancestors, had been burnt to a crisp and he had fallen into the pits of despair – the smiling Kurosaki that many had once known had fallen into the pits of hell and no one, pray, _no one, _was able to break him free of his self-induced cage he had locked himself in. Not a single soul lived out there to grant him the wish he wanted so desperately to be granted. The wished he _yearned _to be granted.

It was then that someone had reached out to him, eyes ablaze with a new fire – a fire blasting warm, yet deadly, yellow flames. Yet how could it still remain to the fact that no one living could have succeeded in his wish being granted? The answer was quite simple if you asked the Kurosaki himself.

It was the fact that his savior, his alternate chess piece, the snake under the vines and the horrors awaiting under his sleeves, was, per say, _not human. _

A fiend, some would say. A devil cloaked in white, a sinful angel cast from the heavens above – to Ichigo, he was once a mere chess piece in his game of revenge. A simple glowing white figure standing in the middle of the sixty-four space of checkered black in white – a 'daemon.' A demon. That was all he was.

He had received the contract with a demon at the quaint age of twelve. He could have been in his right state of mind, but he also could had not. There were times in which Ichigo wished he had not created such a damned artifact as a blood-pact, but then again, the young Kurosaki had always known that mere thought was blasphemy. There was not a single chance he had regretted it in the next five years of living; if not for the demon he would have not succeeded as far as to be able to accomplish his goal.

He knew that someday the demon would tear his soul from his body and gobble it up like a freshly made cake, so delicate and yet so painful, and he would proceed in making a new contract with a new being at a new time and he would continue to live on for centuries to come – and he wouldn't be remembered in any other form but 'dinner.' However, that was the price he would have to pay for his revenge.

And when that day came, Ichigo Kurosaki would not utter another name from his lips other than the sole being he had 'sold his soul to the devil' for.

The bitter yet blissful sound of the name that rolled off his tongue like sweet lavender in the middle of hearty summer, the name that prickled blood from its rosy thorns and proceeded to grasp at the blood pooling from his slightly ajar mouth, the name that continued to heap shivers upon shivers out of his tanned, lustful frame of pure perfection – a simple name. That's all it was.

The name that Ichigo had learnt long ago would be the name of his demise, the sole reason that he would fall and crumble onto the checkerboard as his game had finally reached its end – an accomplishment.

The name that would tumble from his lips as he won.

And that name….

As bittersweet as it was….

As white, as clear….

As loving, as hating, as penetrating….

As hearty….

As hurtful….

As promising….

Ichigo found that the man he had damned to be his butler was none other than the definition of 'blackened whiteness' or 'stained purity.' The orangette still couldn't figure out to his day how the whitened mass of beauty was nothing but a 'demon' and not a 'fallen angel', but in his place he was nowhere capable to judge. Maybe he was the true demon – cloaked in the simple name of 'Servant'. Maybe he was the blackened soul that was forced and chained to the ground in his own agony – maybe he was the cloak of darkness that soiled the perfect brightness of the demon he was to call his own.

He couldn't….

Where there are people in the world he lived in that he admired once or twice, people that would more or less peak his interest for a millisecond or two – there are also the choice many who had blackened his heart more and more and more until his own destruction. There were nasty people. People also stained with hate that would rival his own. There were those who would, more or less, risk their lives for the Kurosaki, and then….And then….

There was _him._

Ichigo could go into depths how deeply he cared for the demon, how every day he would look upon eyes crusted with molten and his heart, long ago shut down and tossed into the pits of blackness, would pump with embarrassment or fury or just….A feeling that he was unable to believe he was able to feel. He would cry out to the heavens and weep out his sorrow, wondering how such perfection could be altered into something that would devour his soul someday, one day, any day to come.

And yet, Kurosaki was still able to think that, maybe, that that was the reason that he had grown to adore his butler. Maybe the promise of salvation from the world he lived in brought a simple calm to his soul – maybe that faithful day that he would one day face was not so scary as it may seem.

Ichigo Kurosaki was prepared for that day.

Once he received his revenge, he would let this man have at his soul like many other people before him had let the demon do.

When he had finished his game, his life-sized, beautifully painful game of never-ending chess, he would do it.

He would let Hichigo Ogichi Shirosaki, son of the _Akuma no chichi_, son of the 'Father of Demons', consume his soul.


	2. Chapter One: Improper Guests

Well, first in foremost. God, I started highschool today and I already hate it. I mean, the teachers are perfectly fine and all that but the kids I have in my classes and just….How each class is like, on the other side of the world is just….URGGGGGH. And then, I have my worst nightmare. I'm in AP English and the teacher….Oh my god, the teacher….I want to wring his neck like a mofo. I mean, I need an interesting teacher to keep me, y'know, into what we're doing and I have a feeling that's just not gonna fly. Dx

On another note this is short and squeezed and since school's back in session, everything will be updated _even slower. _I know man, I know. I be sorry. And also, I haven't updated what people want to be updated and it's just….I haven't really been feeling it. xD But don't worry, Pale Pastel's is almost done….Maybe…

While as I've been slacking off on my writing I've been filling up my time on a marathon of Supernatural. xD Got to Second Season, third or fourth episode. Haven't seen it in forever, I totally forgot the whole plot and everything. D:

Danse Macabre

_Chapter One: Improper Guests _

~oOo~

_Third Person POV_

* * *

"M'Lord, I've been told yer requestin' Kokeicha tea in favor a yer guests, I presume?" Shirosaki licked his lips as he stared down at his young master, who sat begrudgingly irritated on the expensive Victorian chair that had just recently been shipped to Japan from the States. As the tall, ghostly butler spoke, said master glanced up at his butler in that of complete and utter distaste.

"Have I?" Ichigo Kurosaki drawled as he stared at the ceiling of the remodeled mansion, ignoring the speaker blatantly as he continued to fiddle with his inked feather, annoyed that he was unable to finish his work before they had arrived. 'They' consisted of his three new work hands – Shirosaki had utterly insisted that he had needed more workers – even when he knew perfectly well that the demon was far better off on his own. It trifled Kurosaki to think the other would go as far as hire three more hands for the orangette's own good, but alas, he felt too tired and drained to figure out his butler's ulterior motive.

That, and the fact that his new workers were not his main performance at any cost. Those wretched businessmen always trying to seep their dirty claws into his business….He should just give the blasted things what they deserved already.

"Yes, M'Lord. Have ya fergotten?" Had Shirosaki been anyone else, he was more than sure that the glare he received would more or less burn a regular human right out of his loafers – however, there were two things wrong with the situation. For one, he was most assuredly not burning up at his master's feet – and, well, he also wasn't wearing loafers.

"Piss it, Shirosaki. I have work to finish. Just….Find something sweet for me to eat, will you? Deal with the guests at a later time." Ichigo ordered the albino with a fierce scowl, his eyes slight in a blaze that even had the albino demon shivering in slight fear….Er, well, hunger was more typically the feeling he had grown accustomed to. After all….His master's soul was that to be devoured in the most delicate and seductive ways. That's what he led himself to think, anyway.

"Master, I do request tha' ya –…"

"That is an order, Shirosaki. Remove yourself at this instant." His cold master, ever the one to demand, spoke in nothing short of an authorative tone. Doing as his master had asked him to, Shirosaki merely bowed and answered his masters order with a quiet 'A'course, M'Lord' before leaving his master to dwell in the depths of his work.

"Blasted demons…." He had heard his master mutter to himself as he excused himself from Ichigo's spare office. Holding back a sharp smirk in his all too white face, the demon shook his head lightly and closed the door, heeding the fact that his waist-length hair was yet to be caught in the grasp of that damned hinge. Sighing contently when the door had been closed behind him, Shirosaki began to mutter to himself about what his preparations would be for their upcoming guests.

Sousuke Aizen and Gin Ichimaru would be arriving no later than six P.M, leaving him about…an hour for the dinner to be completed. Nodding, as if satisfied by his lack of time, Shirosaki risked a glance at his pocket watch to seek the exact time. As he did so, out of the corner of his eye he say three figures stalking their way over the hill that the Kurosaki mansion rested on. With a curt nod and a placement of his pocket water back in his respectful spot, Shirosaki decided he best get on with dinner before his master became upset.

Shirosaki had carefully assessed the people that were walking up the hill at this moment. In truth, he needed no help in maintaining the Kurosaki Manor – after all, he ain't anything but rubbish if he was unable to do that little – but when he was protecting his master he needed at least something to rely on to protect what his master held onto most – the mansion. Which is why he chose these three as tributes to the family.

The first was Grimmjow Jeagerjaques. He was posing as the cook. Shirosaki had first spotted him in the middle of an argument with his superiors about their motives being rash and rather uncanny, which, in Grimmjow's eyes, had proceeded to spell out T-R-A-P. The albino had been shocked a mere human could figure such a well thought out plan out. Well, in any case, the first time he had introduced himself was after the battle – no, the massacre – were the blue-haired soldier had been sitting in a pit with dead figures all around him, smoking a cigarette as if it was his way of saying 'I told you so.' At his proposal and a compliment about the man's 'keen eye', the fighter was as good as taken.

The second was Hanataru. He was, in short, an experimented subject and in result to his painful life of being cooped up in a cell with nothing more to do other than speak to birds, he had an abnormal sense of inhuman strength that would more or less put most demons to shame. He had asked the other to join them – however, he had to promise the other the will to be outside more often than not due to his sheltered life – he was fairly simple, and would be useful around the home.

The third and final was Orihime Inoue. When Shirosaki had met her she was on another assassination mission – the albino could literally smell her tears as she lined up her sniper against the head of a father of a happy family, who stood next to his wife and a child – and he had jumped in immediately to offer her a job. After all, she wouldn't survive in the world if she had no job and from the looks of it she abhorred her old job – she would now be the maid.

They were all chosen for their special fighting skills and strengths. The butler was positive he would not regret his decision about such a fine group of humans, be that as it may.

"Oh my, I musn't dawdle like tha'…." Shirosaki murmured as he watched the old grandfather clock shake the walls with its loud chime, signaling the fact that it was, in fact, five o'clock and he had an exact hour to prepare his masters snack and the dinner for their special guests. The other servants would have to be put to work right away.

In any case, he was still sure an hour would be more than enough time to set the tables, wash, dry, and polish the dinner table, position the chairs and wash the silverware thrice over, make his masters snack and prepare dinner, fix the chandelier and light the candles, set the tablecloth and greet the guests in a fairly mannered fashion.

And if not, he was simply not a butler capable of his position of a loyal domestic to the family of the Kurosaki's.

~oOo~

"And the preparations are complete." Shirosaki smirked as he glanced at his work up and down for the millionth time that night. He had finished all his respectful duties and, with fifteen minutes to spare, he accomplished a few more finishing touches to the mansion around him before the… 'Respectful Patrons' arrived. If Shirosaki had his own way he would never let the two arriving guests set foot into his home – the mere thought of conversing with the Young Master was downgrading and henceforth underestimating the power of a young man.

Shirosaki himself was more or less indifferent about the men and woman he had recruited for the household maintenance. In a way, he thought they were mostly there for show. However, being as carefully picked as they were, it would make the albino's life a whole lot easier when he didn't have to worry about every tiny fly that thought they could take on the Kurosaki Manor. To him the thought was just laughable.

Speaking of the other servants….He would have to get them as soon as Young Master's discussion with the two men was completed. After all, he had more or less told them to shove themselves in a room until they were called due to the fact they were presumably in the way of his other tactics.

"_Welcome to the Kurosaki Manor, Grimmjow, Hanataru, and Orihime. I hope you see yer new home fit. However, seeing as I am on an extremely tight schedule, I shall ask of you to wait in the guest room fer the time being. I shall get to ya when I 'ave completed my tasks." _

It was a rather rushed but respectful greeting if Shirosaki said so himself.

And now, after all his preparations for Ichigo's new guests and also tending to his master's needs, the albino found himself, tailored suit and all, waiting just in front of the door he was about to open with two men staring at him as if they had completed such a daring job – walking into a house uninvited. It wasn't an accomplishment, per say, but it was adequately rude and the butler had to hold back from launching at the two _humans _because they were _kind of _getting on his _everlasting _nerves of _eternal _calmness and _as annoying as those two men were, _Shirosaki was calm and kept his composure for the sake of his masters reputation.

"Ah! You must be Shirosaki-san. I have only heard rumors about the ghostly butler himself, but to seek such a fine specimen in real life is truly fascinating…." To the voice, Shirosaki simply turned in the direction of the large front doors to meet with the gaze of who he was positive was Aizen, owner of an extremely large fashion company – ah, what was it, Grotesque Infliction Industries, or something of the sort?

With expert practice Shirosaki held back a degrading snarl and settled for a nice, peaceful smile, bowing towards the guests who had _so gracefully let themselves in the manor. _

_How disgraceful…._Shirosaki had thought then. _To frankly degrade his master in such a manner….How exceedingly rude. _

"Ma, ma. Aizen-sama, I do believe it's slightly early t'be lettin' yerself inta the home of the Kurosaki's – isn't it, Whitey?" The second voice had peeked out from behind the brown-haired nuisance, but instead of acting on his impulses and ripping the dirty little tongues out of both of the businessmen, Shirosaki only bowed once more to the newest subject to his annoyance.

"I see you have already let yourself in, kind sirs." Shirosaki dropped his accent for the sake of his master's reputation and bit out the words out of his lips as if they were a type of poison that only a demon would be able to die from. However, instead of catching his drift at him blandly stating that it was extremely rude in place of Ichigo Kurosaki himself, the fox and the hunter proceeded to walk themselves into the large welcoming room of Ichigo's home.

"Tha' we 'ave, Whitey. Now, we 'ave business with tha' Kurosaki himself, not the butler." Shirosaki, trying to hold back an amused grin of triumph, settled for waiting until the two men who were so blind-sighted to the other being behind him. He couldn't help but cock his head to the side in humour, though.

"I do appreciate if you did _not _speak to my personal servant in such a manner, Ichimaru."

Hiding the smirk and slight intake of gratitude he felt for his master, he bowed once more for real at the sight of his master walking down the stairs, cane in hand. Adorning his human's overly enticing body was a blue outfit made by the fittest of silk and wool, buttons crossing over the front of the Victorian-fashioned labor suit. The heels on his finely polished shoes clacked as he descended down the wooden stairs leading down to the three figures, leaving Shirosaki only to shake his head and promptly remind himself that he would have to polish the floors later.

"Ah, Kurosaki-san! How have ya been lately? I presume ya –…."

"Cut the condolences, Ichimaru. Follow me. Shirosaki, serve dinner at the table and proceed to meet with us in my office." Shirosaki bowed respectfully and nodded, turning away to do exactly as his master told him to do. Nodding, as if satisfied, Ichigo turned and directed himself back up the stairs. "I assume you have –…."

"Sir Kurosaki, don't you think it's a little…improper to house a mere servant in our private meetings?" Aizen asked a little begrudgingly, his dark brown eyes slightly narrowed, as if testing the orangette. Ichigo, with years of holding back his horrible temper, smirked back at the man with a twinge of venom and began walking up the perfectly polished pristine mahogany stairs towards his less-used office for negotiation.

"See to it that you do not point what's proper and improper in my home, Ichimaru. It would do you quite well." The orangette stated gruffly as he paid close attention to the footsteps behind him – only cautioning if the steps had either picked up or slowed down. Though he had no trouble going up the stairs with the two, of course, the fox himself had to open his mouth as soon as they reached the top.

"Maa maa, Ichigo-san. This is quite the mansion you have here."

Ichigo scoffed and directed the two to the right. "It is hardly my own creation. Thank my ancestors if you see to it being intricate." Ichigo scowled and walked stiffly down the extremely long hallway, his slightly heeled feet dragging against the bloody red carpet of the floor. Aizen and Ichimaru, from behind him, risked a glance at each other, almost as if contemplating a deed. Eyes narrowing, Ichigo stiffly continued to walk with his carved silver dragon cane in hand.

"This painting is beautiful, Sir Kurosaki. I can see where you inherited your youthful features." Aizen pointed out as the young Kurosaki careless passed the family portrait of his family, henceforth causing him to pause and glance back at his guest with angered dismay and annoyance.

"It will be torn in a few given days, anyway. I have no bond with that painting. So please, if you will follow me…."


	3. Gone

**EXTREMELY IMPORTANT: PLEASE READ.**

Well, guys, I'm really, really, really sorry to say this but I'm abandoning all my stories until further notice. What I would like you guys to do however is vote on my poll for this matter at hand: Do you wish for someone else to take up my stories (if you want to, please PM me x3) or do you want to wait it out and see when\if I ever update them again? And, if I do continue updating, what top five stories do you wish me to cover?

This is going out on every one of my stories to see who will respond to my poll - please and thank you!

Once again, I'm horribly sorry, but I had a huge fallout with Bleach and I just can't get my interest back no matter how hard I try. xD I mean, GrimmIchi and Hichichi don't even appeal to me anymore when I used to obsess over it. So yeah, I'm really sorry. xD


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